


before the world catches up

by ruination_fangs



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: F/M, LET'S FIND OUT, Mostly Post-Canon, how many slightly different bed sharing fics can i write?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruination_fangs/pseuds/ruination_fangs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of mostly-unrelated one-shots.</p><p>Latest (12/12): As with all other aspects of his life, Milla manages to throw a wrench into Jude's morning routine. Jude doesn't really mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her hands are smaller than he expected.

He supposes he should have seen that coming, since she always did say his hands were bigger than she thought, but something about it still surprises him. Their fingertips don’t line up and her palm fits snugly within his when she presses her left hand to his right.

"See?" she says, triumphant, without removing her hand. "I told you. You have big hands."

"No I don’t," Jude says. "You have small hands."

She frowns then, as if seriously considering a way to test which of them is right. But when Jude shifts his hand against hers slightly, she seems to forget all about it, and smiles at him again, gentler this time.

It’s not just that her hands are small. They’re soft, too, her skin smooth and pale against his. Even the calluses on her palms are somehow pleasant to the touch. He traces his fingertips down the backs of long, graceful fingers to nails trimmed to the perfect length, long enough not to look chopped off but short enough not to be a hindrance. Of course, they’re strong hands, too; he can feel the power and surety of her grip, and he has no doubt these hands can kill. But even despite that — or perhaps because of that — there’s something beautiful about them, beautiful about the way these fingers that can so easily crush can also glide so gently across his skin.

It’s nothing like his own hands, he thinks as he lets her do the same to him, trailing those beautiful fingers across his palm. His hands are rough and callused, the skin torn up in places from too much fighting. Even with his gauntlets to protect them, his fists take a beating when he has to use them this often, and he can see that they’re suffering for it. Maybe they used to be the hands of a doctor, clean and delicate, but now they’re the hands of a fighter. He’s not sure he likes the change.

Even so, Milla brushes her fingertips over his knuckles with something like reverence. Jude’s gaze drifts up her arm and neck to her eyes — fixed on his hands curiously, but with such a softness that he can feel his chest swelling, threatening to burst.

It occurs to him that they almost never touch skin-to-skin. Both of them wear gloves, and if they take them off to eat or sleep their hands only touch briefly and accidentally in passing, and if he has to examine a wound with his bare hands he’s careful not to probe too much. The sensation of other fingers winding around his, lacing their hands together, is foreign and oddly pleasant.

She finally looks up at him, still smiling, and he tries to return the gesture. Surely she can feel his heart beating through his fingertips. He thinks if they don’t stop touching soon his palms are going to get all sweaty and slick and disgusting… but he doesn’t really want to let go.

And from the looks of it, neither does she, so they don’t.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s something oddly nostalgic about being in Milla’s shrine.

Jude knows the very idea is ridiculous; he’d never even heard of Nia Khera, much less visited there, until after he met Milla, and that wasn’t all that long ago. But the wooden floorboards, the dust floating in beams of sunlight, the musty, natural scent that pervades the room after her long absence — something about all of it puts him at ease, as if the shrine is his home, too.

Now that he knows Milla better than when he first came here with her, it doesn’t surprise him that she loves the place so much. Despite how strict she is about fulfilling her duty, and her childlike enthusiasm for learning about humans, he’s come to understand her as a quiet, calm person at heart. She likes small, quaint towns better than big cities. She likes to read. She likes nature. She likes to interact with others, but more in the form of observing and listening than speaking.

So it also didn’t really surprise him that she’s made a habit of meditating.

What, exactly, she means by the word, he’s not sure. He knows meditation can have various religious or health-related or even martial functions. In fact, Master Sonia taught a kind of meditation to focus one’s energy before combat, in an attempt to keep her wildly energetic daughter from flailing around too uncontrollably when they sparred. But Jude thinks Milla’s kind of meditation is less for the body than for the mind — more of a spiritual concentration than a fighting technique.

“You can stay and watch, if you wish,” she says while he’s still in the process of getting up.

He pauses, legs poised to stand and one finger marking his place in the book he just closed.

“It won’t bother you? I just thought if you were going to meditate you’d want it as quiet as possible…”

Milla takes her place on the dais at the back of the room, settling into a cross-legged position. Jude slowly averts his eyes to the intricate carvings in the wood behind her and pretends not to notice how high her skirt rides up when she sits like that.

“Meditation is about mentally blocking out distractions, not eliminating them beforehand. Besides, you’re a quiet person,” she says matter-of-factly, and then smiles at him across the room, all reassurance. “It won’t bother me.”

“Okay…”

Knowing better than to argue when Milla’s mind is made up, Jude leans back against the wall, relaxing and spreading his book across his lap again. She has her eyes closed and her hands resting on her knees, so Jude says nothing more and goes back to reading.

Except now that he’s thinking about it, he becomes aware of every sound inside and outside the room. They’re the only ones here, so there are no footsteps or voices, but birds sing in the woods around the shrine. When the wind picks up it rustles the leaves, barely audible. A wooden beam somewhere creaks faintly, and when Jude shifts the slightest bit he can hear the fabric of his pants brushing against the floor and his other clothing, a whisper amplified in the silence.

None of it seems to bother Milla. She sits still as a statue on her simple wooden throne, so calm Jude can barely even see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Her face is impassive, yet somehow serene — long eyelashes utterly still against her pale cheeks, her mouth perfectly straight but not severely set. For a moment he sees her hair sway, the only indication that some muscle twitched, and then it settles around her face and shoulders and sides again as if the long curls were created there, carved from something both soft and solid that frames her face and body perfectly.

She’s beautiful. He’s always known that, since the day he first saw her, but something about her now threatens to take his breath away, and he’s not certain it’s something entirely physical. The set of her shoulders, the way she carries herself, proud but quiet, commanding but infinitely compassionate, a kind of austerity that’s imposing without being overwhelming… Just watching her fills his chest with some restless, bursting feeling he can’t quite explain, and simultaneously puts him at complete ease.

He wonders if anyone else has ever seen her meditate. Ever seen her face so utterly peaceful, without her shields up, without the weight of all her responsibilities on her shoulders. Maybe it’s selfish, but he kind of hopes he’s the only one.

Even though his gaze has been fixed on her face for some time now, it takes him a few moments to notice when she opens her eyes. They stare at the wall as she adjusts to the light, then easily sweep across the room and land on Jude.

Jude, who is still staring at her with his mouth slightly slack, who hurriedly clamps his jaw shut and turns his head back down to his book, where with any luck she won’t be able to see the blush spreading across his cheeks. One finger is still hooked beneath the corner of the page he was about to turn, a minute…

A minute ago? Ohhh no, how long has it been? His eyes scan the paragraphs in front of him and he quickly realizes he’s on the very same page as when she started her meditation.

Hurriedly he skims through the end of the page and flips it over — there, he didn’t spend the whole time doing nothing — and almost doesn’t hear her stand up on her dais. Though his eyes are roving over the text, though he’s forcing himself to move them at a reasonable speed, he knows right away that he’s not taking any of it in. His mind is still fixed on Milla, Milla’s gorgeous figure like the most entrancing statue he’s ever seen, Milla’s footsteps getting closer —

They stop, and he gives himself a solid few seconds to calm his heartbeat and pretend to finish his paragraph before he looks up.

“Done already?” he says, and wills his smile not to falter.

She smiles back down at him. “Was it that fast?”

“Well, I don’t know.” His eyes drop back down to the book. “I kind of lose track of time when I’m reading…”

At least it's not a lie. Still, he’s never been very good even at bending the truth, and he can’t really stop his face from heating up again.

“I understand,” Milla says, and suddenly she’s sitting next to him, so close their shoulders are almost touching. He looks up reflexively. “Sometimes when Ivar would bring me new books, I’d get so wrapped up in reading that I wouldn’t even notice when the sun set. I would look up to find that Efreet had lit a lamp beside me and everything else was dark.”

“Really?” This time Jude’s smile is completely genuine.

“Really.” Milla nods, her expression as serious as if they were still talking about the fate of the world.

Something about it almost makes Jude chuckle. “In that case, I’m not surprised you can meditate so well with other people around.”

She doesn’t know, then. How could she? Her eyes were closed, and he wasn’t making a sound. If she can focus that deeply, there’s no way she both noticed that he wasn’t turning pages and interpreted that to mean that he was staring at her instead.

He’s not sure that relief is why he suddenly feels so comfortable, though. There’s just something about her being so close. The natural scent of her body, the way he can almost feel the warmth radiating from her, like sunlight personified…

“So what are you reading about?”

His eyes refocus to find that Milla is looking over his shoulder at the book in his lap.

“O-Oh, this?” Jude says, painfully aware that her face is mere inches from his. “It’s just a text I picked up in Xian Du… It’s about the history of the coliseum.”

"Ah. Would you mind if I read it with you for a while?"

When she smiles, Jude doesn't think he could turn her down even if he wanted to. "Of course I wouldn't mind," he says, pushing the book a little closer to her.

Milla leans up against him to get a better view, and Jude is aware that his thoughts are drifting again, but he doesn't try too hard to rein them in. It's nice, he thinks. The amiable silence. Being here with her. Simple pleasures that feel sacred in a place like this, with a person like this.

He leans into her a little bit as well, glancing at her face, still so close to his. She scans the open page with an intensity almost at odds with how peaceful the room feels right now, and Jude smiles as he directs his eyes back to the text.

He’s never been averse to enjoying the quiet himself, but somehow it’s that much nicer to enjoy it together.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s colder here than it was at the Kijara Seafalls. Milla supposes that makes sense, seeing as the hills north of Xian Du are higher in the mountains, but it didn’t really occur to her until she saw Jude rubbing his bare forearms and huddling in on himself.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “If you’re too cold, I can have Efreet–”

“N-No, it’s all right,” Jude says, making a visible effort to stop shivering. “It’s not so bad when the wind stops, and the spray from the river isn’t hitting me…” He takes another step from the edge of the water, shaking out one foot distastefully even though his pants are hardly wet. The current is fast and turbulent here, swirling around rocks and over small ledges and sending a fine mist up around their shoes.

He had been reluctant to come up here to begin with, but Milla had insisted on showing him this waterfall she found. Having Sylph fly them up and back means the journey won’t take all day or be too taxing, and the work Jude was doing at the inn isn’t  _that_  important, and they don’t have to leave Xian Du until tomorrow anyway, so all of Jude’s arguments fell short and he gave in rather quickly.

Milla suspects that his real reservation is the memory of what happened at Kijara, though he doesn’t want to admit it. No matter how many times she assures him that she enjoyed the whole trip and doesn’t think any less of him for it, whenever the topic comes up he fidgets and changes the subject. She didn’t think that being sworn to secrecy on the matter meant they couldn’t talk about it with  _each other_ , but if it makes him uncomfortable, she won’t press the issue.

Still, she doesn’t want one mistake to prevent him from ever looking at another waterfall. This region is full of them; the tributaries that eventually join the main river under Xian Du all start out higher in the mountains, where the terrain is largely craggy and jagged, sending the streams crashing down over cliffs all over the place. The one they’re approaching now is particularly high, so after looking at it from down below, they decided to come up to the top to see what the view is like.

The two of them pick their way along the rocky shore, following the current to the cliff it spills over. Jude had seemed nervous about getting too close to the edge, so Sylph had set them down farther upriver and left them to figure out by themselves how far they want to go. It’s not a long way, but one that requires caution, finding solid footholds between the water’s edge and the boulders and shrubs that line the river. Jude seems convinced that even with the Four here they might be in trouble if they fall in.

“What about you?” he asks when he’s not shaking as much. “You wear so little clothing all the time. You must be freezing…”

Milla shakes her head. “I’m fine. Spirits aren’t really bothered by the temperature as much as humans are.” She considers adding that even when she had a truly human body, the cold never got to her much, but Jude still looks a little miserable in two coats, so she decides against it.

Jude keeps his distance from the water, probably remembering the last time he got too complacent putting his boots on wet rocks. All it had taken was one misstep, shifting his foot against a surface a little too slippery, and then half his body was in the river. Of course, he was never in any real danger – Undine had seen to that even before Milla pulled him up – but it had left him a little rattled and more than a little damp.

Milla frowns. He was sneezing an awful lot after that. No good can come of sitting around in cold air in soaking wet clothes; isn’t that how the books always say people catch colds? He should have just let her take off his–

“Milla, look!” Jude is standing several yards ahead now, and Milla can barely hear his voice over the roar of the falls. Even before she draws even with him she can see what he wanted to show her; they’re close enough to the edge to see plenty of the landscape below, jagged cliffs interspersed with forested slopes and crisscrossed by streams here and there.

It  _is_  a nice view. Of course, they saw much the same picture from the air when they flew up here… but Jude may have had his eyes shut for most of that trip. They’ll probably both enjoy it more from the safety of solid ground.

Jude beckons her away from the river, creeping along the shrubs until the sound of the water is a more reasonable level, and sits on a flat outcrop of rock. They’re still far enough from the cliff to not have to worry about falling, but the wind is stronger here; soon enough the warmth from moving their muscles has faded, and Jude is wrapping his arms around his torso, trying to be nonchalant about it and failing.

Milla settles down next to him and doesn’t hesitate to curl one arm around his back, pressing up against his side. In answer to his sudden sputtering, she simply says, “Sharing body heat should keep you warmer, right?”

Jude turns his face away, too late to hide his blushing, but at the same time Milla can feel his body relaxing. “I-I guess, yeah…”

A few minutes pass in relative silence. A breeze rustles the leaves of the plants and grasses around them, the soft sound blending into the fainter rush of water nearby. A couple of birds call back and forth to each other.

Finally Jude says, “Have you ever heard of, like… meditating under waterfalls? Apparently some old spirit faith teachings and arte training methods used to have students do that, to heighten their discipline or hone their abilities or something.”

“Yes, I believe I’ve read that too. I’ve never done it, though.”

“Really? Even with the Seafalls practically in your backyard?”

Milla raises her free hand to her chin. “I suppose it didn’t really occur to me to leave my shrine for something like that. Besides, the Four never would have allowed it. Undine and Sylph even kept the rain from touching me if it was too heavy.”

“Heh.” Jude smiles, shifts a little closer to her. “It sounds crazy, but the Four seem kind of overprotective. They must have really loved you.”

The breeze stirs up again, blowing some of Milla’s hair into her face. She pushes it aside, smiling faintly, letting her gaze unfocus as she stares out over the hills. “Yes, I suppose they did.”

For another minute or so they listen to the water in the distance. Milla adjusts her hand on Jude’s waist. He squirms a little, but doesn’t seem to be shivering anymore. That’s good.

The forest is thicker down below, so it’s hard to tell where their river winds up. Milla tries to trace its path through the trees, trying to remember what the scene looked like from above, and only from the corner of her eyes sees Jude finally lower his arms.

“…Milla?”

“Hm?”

She angles her face slightly in his direction to find him already looking up at her, and already blushing faintly. When their eyes meet he flushes harder, and says, “Um, can I…?”

Milla’s only answer is to smile, and apparently that’s enough; after only a moment’s hesitation he leans forward to touch his lips to hers, a little quickly and clumsily but not abrasively, and a whole host of feelings spring to life in Milla’s chest all at once – that same surprise at how good such a simple act feels, pride that he actually managed to do it without falling down this time, a touch of nervousness, but mostly just this impossibly warm  _fondness_  that seems to spread through her entire being.

It can’t be more than a few seconds before he pulls away, still so red that she can practically feel the heat radiating off his face (or is she blushing, too?), but the way the feeling lingers, it seems longer. When Jude opens his eyes again he stares at her lips for a few moments before hesitantly meeting her gaze.

Milla places her free hand against the side of his face to keep him from retreating too far, but when she smiles all he does is smile too, the tension draining from his muscles again. Her hand skims behind his ear and then drifts down to meet the other one on his waist, arms encircling his body.

“Maybe the legend was true.”

Jude still seems a little dazed. “What?”

“The old superstition Celsius told us. That couples who climb to the top of the Kijara Seafalls together will develop a deep bond.”

“I don’t know,” Jude says, glancing away but smiling. “I think we had a pretty deep bond even before that.”

“Heh. I guess you’re right.”

Jude shifts back a little so he can lay his head on Milla’s shoulder. When the breeze picks up again, unruly strands of his hair tickle her cheek, but she thinks she’d rather leave her arms right where they are than do anything about it.

“Hey, Milla…?” Jude says after a minute. “Do you think we can… keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Milla can’t see his face anymore, but she can tell just from the way he’s talking that he’s probably blushing again.

“You know… going on… dates, like this. To waterfalls, or even not waterfalls, just… anywhere we can sit and talk alone.”

Another smile tugs at Milla’s lips. “Sitting and talking” isn’t exactly what she finds most enjoyable about their excursions, and she suspects Jude feels the same way, but he’s right; the time they’ve spent alone like this has been exceedingly comfortable.

“Of course,” she says, turning her head to press her lips to his hair. He only nuzzles closer to her, and Milla notes with more than a little satisfaction that he doesn’t seem to be at all cold anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10/3 is (was) jumilla day <3

Five and a half months since they last saw each other, and yet the first thing Milla says when she gets in is, “You wear glasses?”

Jude temporarily ignores the question to pull her into a hug, which she’s happy to return; but still, when they half-part, arms still around each other’s backs, her gaze goes right back to scrutinizing his face.

“Are they new?” she asks, reaching one hand up to delicately touch the frames. They’re new enough that Jude blinks, forgetting that his eyes are safe behind the glass.

Still, he says, “Not really. I got them… two or three months ago, I guess?”

“Ah,” is all Milla says. She smiles, eyes not quite meeting his, and for a moment the look on her face softens into something wistful. He knows that look — he’s used to seeing it when she comes back from the spirit realm to find that something moderately important has happened in her absence.

Used to it, but still not glad to see it. She tries to hide those feelings, but he knows a part of her regrets that she’s not here to witness how her friends’ lives are changing. She reacted the same way the first time he didn’t have to lean up to kiss her (hardly a significant amount of growth, really, but something he’s proud of nonetheless), and when she first noticed that his shoulders got broader and his face more defined while she was gone. He remembers this same expression from when she came back after missing another birthday and another major spyrite breakthrough, and he remembers the ache in his chest when he couldn’t think of anything to say to make her feel better.

He’s so busy remembering, in fact, that he doesn’t see what she’s doing until his glasses are snatched right off his face.

“Hey!” he says, recoiling slightly. When he opens his eyes again, Milla has the glasses perched on her nose, fingers still lightly gripping the hinges as she looks past him and around the room.

She narrows her eyes. “Everything is blurry. It’s making my head hurt.”

“Well, yeah. With eyesight as good as yours, a lens is just going to mess everything up. I  _need_  them.” Jude pauses, and Milla directs her gaze back to him. “They look good on you, though.”

“Do they?” Milla smiles as she removes the glasses and turns them to put them back on Jude’s face. “I think they look better on you. They suit you.”

Jude raises his hands to help her get the glasses back on without poking his eyes out. When they’re settled again, he blinks a few times and says, “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true,” Milla answers. She crosses her arms in the small space between their chests. “They’re very… scholarly?”

“That’s just a stereotype,” Jude says, but doesn’t argue further. Honestly, he’s growing pretty fond of the image himself. If people are going to respect him more as a researcher just because he wanted to put less strain on his eyes, well, he can’t agree with their reasoning, but he won’t balk at the compliment. He’s quite young to be so distinguished in his field, after all; he won’t easily turn down anything that makes people take him more seriously.

Anything to advance the cause. Anything to get the government and the public to accept spyrite as a necessity and stop using spyrixes. To save the spirits, and humans along with them. Maybe then the mana levels will go back up, the environment will go back to normal, and he and Milla can see each other more than three times a year.

“Either way.” Milla uncrosses her arms and smiles at him. “You look good. My only concern is…”

Her smile fades the slightest bit, and Jude’s eyebrows raise. No one yet has had a  _problem_  with his glasses.

“What?” he prompts, when she only continues to examine his face.

Milla tilts her head a little. “They’re not going to get in the way, are they?”

“…What do you mean, in the way?”

“Like this,” she says, and leans in to kiss him before he can reply.

They don’t get in the way, not really. Maybe they get bumped a little, and Milla’s long bangs almost get caught in the hinges, but Jude’s not really paying attention to that. He’s much more concerned with how soft her skin is, and her hands winding around his back again, and the sweet but earthy scent that never quite leaves her body, and the almost painful sensation of air against his lips when she pulls back.

“Hmm.” Milla peers at him through the lenses. “I suppose they’ll do.”

“Well, I’m glad they have Maxwell’s seal of approval,” Jude says, only a little sardonically.

Milla’s lips twitch. “Even so,” she says, reaching up again. “I’m going to need them off for a while.”

This time she pulls the glasses off gently, fingers brushing his cheeks and arms coming to rest on his shoulders, and when she leans in until their foreheads touch Jude doesn’t complain at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy 2016 \o/

The countdown starts ten seconds before midnight. By then the party has been going on for hours, but the guests have only gotten more excited the later the night grows, until even Jude is almost buzzing with a subdued kind of excitement.

Not the way some of the adults are buzzing - there’s certainly been no shortage of champagne bottles cracked open in the last few hours - but despite Jude’s tendency to hover at the edges of parties, it’s been a pleasant enough evening. All his friends are here, the music isn’t too loud, there’s enough food to keep even Milla satisfied. For the last twenty minutes or so he’s been content to sip from a glass of cider and watch Leia and Elize drag Elle around the dance floor to prevent her from falling asleep on the couch again before midnight.

And it looks like they’re going to be successful, because now is the big moment they’ve all been waiting for. Ten seconds left until the new year.

Most of the room has turned to the oversized clock on the wall, chanting the numbers as they watch the larger hand tick steadily closer to the top. Jude doesn’t have to look away to know that Milla is standing beside him. Though he’s talked to more people tonight than he knows the names of, somehow he and Milla always find their way back to each other.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say they’ve spent much of the night together, and Jude’s chest warms at the thought. He can’t think of a better way to end the year, or start a new one.

As the countdown continues, Milla's arm briefly brushes against Jude’s, probably just a result of the energetic crowd around them. Then it winds around his back – definitely not a mistake.

“Four! Three!”

Jude’s heart jolts. Milla nudges him gently but forcefully, making him turn and look up at her. In the same moment, her other hand comes up to cup the side of his face, brushing his hair away from his cheek.

“Two!”

“H-Huh?”

Absolutely none of his confusion is reflected in Milla’s eyes. She holds his gaze steadily, quietly, offering only the edges of a smile as the barest explanation.

“One!”

Jude’s brain is still catching up when she leans forward, half a breath away before she closes her eyes.

“Happy new year!”

A chorus of cheers and party poppers breaks out, but Jude barely hears it. He’s not sure how many seconds into the new year they are when Milla pulls away and the gears in his mind start turning again.

Milla’s eyes shine. “Happy new year’s, Jude.”

“M-Mi…”

“That’s how it works, right?” She smiles even as Jude thinks his face is still getting redder. “I read in a book that humans kiss when the calendar year changes, in the belief that it strengthens bonds for the coming year.”

Her hand on his jaw slips down to drape over his shoulder. She still hasn’t removed the other arm from his waist; he decides not to remind her.

“Y-Yeah, um,” Jude says, swallowing, “it’s just a silly superstition, but…”

Before he can figure out what to say, something crashes into him and nearly knocks him off balance. Milla steadies him, both of them looking up to see Alvin turning to face them.

“Ju-hude! Milla!” he exclaims, holding up a half-empty glass. “Where’s your cider? You’re supposed to toast people at midnight!”

Milla’s eyebrows raise. “This is another tradition?”

“Of course! Put ‘er there, buddy,” Alvin says to Jude when the younger man remembers he’s still holding his own glass. The edges clink together. “Nice and easy, I like it. Leia’s gettin’ a little overzealous about this whole party thing. Probably got half her cider on the floor by now. She got some of it on my scarf, too,” he mutters, running his other hand down the fabric.

Milla finally unwraps her arms from around Jude. Maybe he was expecting it a minute ago, but even still, a small voice in the back of his mind sighs. Alvin’s timing is frustratingly impeccable…

“I put my glass down somewhere,” Milla says when Alvin holds his up to her. “If I had known I would need it later…”

“Aw, not a big deal,” Alvin says, but Milla still looks a little disappointed.

Jude holds out his near-empty glass. “Here, use this. You can drink the rest.”

Milla’s fingers brush against his as she carefully takes the handle and taps the rim against Alvin’s.

“It still works if the glass you use isn’t your own?” she asks after she drains the rest of the cider.

Jude stifles a chuckle. “It really doesn’t matter. Toasting is just a good-will thing.”

“Ah. So it’s the thought that counts?”

The sound of Alvin clearing his throat cuts off Jude’s reply. “Right, well, I’m gonna have to get some more of this porange champagne, so I’ll get out of your hair and let you two get back to _toasting_  each other, then.” He takes a step back, then winks and turns around.

Jude can already feel his face flushing again. “Alvin!”

Alvin only raises his glass in farewell and then disappears into the crowd.

As Jude scowls after him, Milla tilts her head. “We just established that we have only one glass between us. How are we supposed to toast each other?”

“That’s not what he–” Jude sighs. “No, never mind him. Can we, um, go back to what we were talking about before?”

“Right. Where were we?” Milla crosses her arms over her chest. “You were explaining the significance of couples kissing at midnight.”

“There’s not much to explain…” Jude gently takes his empty glass back from Milla’s hand, before the last few drops in it wind up on the floor. “It’s just a thing people do. Some old myth, like… the legend of the Kijara Seafalls, stuff like that. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to kiss someone, I don’t know.“

“Hm. Humans sure have a lot of strange beliefs about bonding with their romantic partners.”

Unbidden, Jude’s heart skips a beat. _Romantic partners..._

“W-Well, we are primarily social animals,” he says. “I think it’s natural for people to want to feel closer to their loved ones.”

Milla smiles and uncrosses her arms. “And these sorts of nearly-arbitrary actions are a way to facilitate that?”

“I don’t know.” Jude scratches his cheek, fighting off a smile of his own. “Maybe it’s more of a placebo effect, but I feel like it’s working already.”

“What is? The kiss?”

“Yeah. What did you say it was supposed to do? ‘Strengthen bonds in the new year’? I think it’s already brought us closer.”

If his heart wasn’t pounding before, it starts up again at the way Milla’s eyes soften when she looks at him. “I’m glad. And I agree.”

For a moment all Jude can do is smile in return. He’s vaguely aware of the party going on around them, lights glowing at the corners of his eyes and bodies still bustling past, but he can’t bring himself to look away from Milla.

“But if you think about it,” she says suddenly, and Jude does his best to switch his focus back to her words instead of the way the party lights make her hair shine like gold. “Could one not say that that’s the general purpose of a kiss, regardless of when it occurs?”

Jude blinks. “I… guess, yeah?”

Milla takes the question more seriously than he expected (but really, what _should_ he have expected, knowing the kind of books she reads). While she broods on it, one hand pressed against her chin, Jude deliberates.

He can feel his face heating up again before he even opens his mouth, but he tries to ignore it and presses on. It’s a new year, after all; if ever there was a time to be a bit bolder…

“Wanna find out?”

Milla’s eyes snap back to his face, curious. “Find out?”

Jude swallows. “If it still works after midnight.”

There’s a pause in which Milla takes in the suggestion and Jude’s heart pounds against his ribs so hard he’s almost surprised Milla can’t hear it. But her face betrays nothing but interest, and that more than anything compels him to lightly wrap his arm around her waist, the nervous buzzing in his body fading to a quiet warmth when Milla doesn’t hesitate to wind her arms back around his shoulders.

“Testing a hypothesis, Doctor Mathis?” she says, in a tone Jude has come to recognize as facetious. But as soon as he answers, “Something like that,” her expression softens into something gentler, and that’s all Jude needs to know she understands.

He’s not sure it’s got anything to do with the superstition or midnight at all, but as he leans up to kiss her again, he can’t help but feel that this really is going to be his favorite year yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pseudo-sequel to "chapter" 2  
> one of many old fics I never finished/posted because I didn't feel like they were good enough. I'm probably going to start uploading them anyway... probably

Humans require a lot of rest.

They’re adorably fragile creatures, tied down to their limited physical forms as they are. Having lived as one before, Milla is well aware of how much time and attention humans need to spend on taking care of themselves, just as she’s well aware that spirits generally require no such maintenance.

So abandoning her old human rituals of daily meals and sleeping schedules was no oddity when she truly became Maxwell. What _did_  surprise her was how much stayed the same. Incessant curiosity, feelings she once thought quintessentially human, even the need for relaxation once in a while – not a physical urge, but a mental, perhaps even emotional one.

That’s how she ends up in Jude’s room after dinner. Ludger is out, probably doing some quick side job to take the edge off his debt, so the two of them have the inn room all to themselves. Under other circumstances, Milla might have just stayed in her own room to rest, but Leia had invited Elize and Elle over to play a game, and then Muzet had wandered in, and though it looked like fun the noise was a little too much for Milla at the moment.

Jude’s room, on the other hand, is almost guaranteed to be quiet. Milla knows he spends most of his alone time reading or working, and he says she’s always welcome to join him. There should be few distractions here; they’re indoors, probably no one will be coming or going, and Jude is just going to be doing his own thing while she’s here. He’s even agreed to try not to mutter to himself while he compiles his notes. Really, there should be no better place to meditate.

The soft thud of a book against the desk is all the noise Jude makes as Milla settles cross-legged on his bed. The blinds are closed against the glare of the setting sun, but some light has crept in anyway and lit up the wall in streaks of gold. They remain etched on her eyelids for a moment when Milla closes her eyes.

She inhales.

And exhales.

And inhales again, slowly, measured. Focused on her breathing and nothing else.

Exhale.

In front of her, a pen scratches lightly against paper.

Inhale.

Milla’s lips twitch downward. Perhaps it’s been a while since she’s done this, but she’s fairly certain it doesn’t usually take this long before she stops noticing those things. When she searches for the sound of her own heartbeat inside her chest, she finds it beating too fast against her ribs, and opens her eyes.

“Something wrong?”

Jude is turned around at the desk, watching her, pen still in hand. “I thought you were going to meditate,” he says. “…Or are you done already?”

His eyes dart back to his papers, then to the clock, as if he’s seriously second-guessing how long it’s been. Milla’s gaze follows his; no, it’s barely been a minute or two. She’s not that distracted.

“I’m getting there,” she says evenly, closing her eyes again. Jude must go back to his work, because some seconds later she hears him shift in his seat.

She inhales. She exhales. There are footsteps in the hall. The floorboards creak as they fade into the distance. Why is she even hearing that?

She tunes out her breathing, tunes out her heartbeat, tunes out the tiny twitches of her muscles and all the faint sounds beyond the window, and is still left with her ears mentally pricked for something. Something closer.

Jude.

Her brow furrows as her eyelids tighten, mind trying to force her body to relax. Is he watching her? Apparently he was before. What is he doing?

She resists the temptation to open her eyes again, and instead allows herself to think.

Why can’t she focus? All she’s trying to do is empty her mind, but somehow it keeps going back to Jude. Should she go somewhere else? She doesn’t think he would mind all that much, but she doesn’t want him to think he drove her away, especially when she was the one who asked if she could join him.

And anyway, it’s not like he’s making enough sound to stop her. He’s not dead silent, no, but he’s always been a quiet person – all the more so when he’s been asked to keep it down. Besides, Milla is used to tuning out those kinds of minor annoyances. She grew up with Ivar tending her shrine, after all; if she can meditate through that, she can meditate through anything.

So why? She’s done this with Jude in the room before and never had a problem. He’s actually easier to ignore than most people, since he’s generally so mild. In fact, Milla always feels quite at peace with him around. Interacting with other humans often requires some degree of caution, but there’s no need for her to keep her guard up around Jude. If there’s anyone she feels comfortable lulling herself into a trance next to, it’s him.

But it’s not working. And it’s not because of him, either; it’s something wrong with her.

She cracks one eye open to watch him lean over his desk, holding a paper up in front of his face. He has a bit of a tendency to lean closer to print when he’s trying to read it, she’s noticed. Does he need glasses? Certainly his vision is good enough that he can get by, but maybe he’d be less stressed with less eye strain.

No. This is exactly the problem. She’s not supposed to be thinking about Jude; she’s not supposed to be thinking. Maybe it was a bad idea to come in here after all.

She tries again, one more time, to shut him out, but can’t even be surprised when she fails. It’s like trying to fall asleep when nervous or excited; there’s a restlessness in her brain that keeps buzzing, humming, directing her thoughts away from where she wants them to go. It frustrates her the same way tenacious monsters do, the kind that refuse to die no matter how hard she hits them, and the small growl she was trying to stifle must have escaped her throat because Jude turns around again.

For a moment he only blinks, then says, “Are you okay? You seem really tense today.” He puts his pen down.

“…Perhaps I am,” Milla admits, letting herself fall backwards to lie on the bed. It bounces underneath her — Alvin was right, the beds here are wonderfully soft — and she stares up at the ceiling until it stops moving.

Of course “giving up” isn’t in her dictionary, but she knows better than to run herself up against a brick wall if it’s not coming down. If the road is impassable, you find a way around it.

She could take her leave and try to meditate somewhere else. Or maybe instead of getting away from Jude she should deliberately stay with him? Maybe after spending some time with him her brain will get tired of fixating on him and she can return to this later.

Regardless of which she would have picked, she thinks the latter is going to choose itself when the edge of the bed dips under Jude’s weight.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, leaning over her a little.

Milla stares up at him, and past him to the faintly orange glow on the ceiling, and says, “Yes, actually. Let’s go for a walk.”

Jude’s eyes widen slightly. “A walk?” He twists around to look at the window. “Yeah, I guess it won’t be fully dark for a while. Why not?”

The first thing he does when he stands up is hold one hand out to Milla, but she sits up without taking it and glances at the messy stack of papers on the desk. “You’re not worried about completing your work first?”

“Nah.” Jude smiles. “It’s not pressing. I think it’s time for a break anyway. I was actually having some trouble concentrating myself…”

He sounds nonchalant, maybe even a little embarrassed, but there’s something very soft about his expression, and almost without thinking about it Milla reaches out for his hand and smiles in return.

Maybe, she thinks as she stands up, maybe this strange fixation isn’t so bad. Maybe, for now, she won’t try to make herself stop thinking about him. Even as he turns off the lights and leads the way out of the room, Jude doesn’t let go of her hand, and Milla realizes that whatever tension was weighing her down before has vanished almost instantly. It’s somewhat of a restless and exciting kind of comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

She winds their fingers together and feels his grip gently tighten around her palm. 

Yes, she decides, there’s more than one way to relax, and she thinks she’s found a new favorite.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude would probably work himself to death if left unchecked. Fortunately for him, Milla intends never to leave him unchecked for long.

By the time Milla arrives at the apartment complex, it's late enough that the hour would be more aptly described as early morning. She would pay that little enough mind herself, as a spirit, but she's familiar enough with human schedules to know that this is the time of night when the vast majority of people are not awake.

So she's a little concerned to see Jude's lights still on, shining through his window blinds in stark contrast to the dark wall around them.

She had expected that he would be fast asleep by now. Certainly she always aims to arrive at a more reasonable hour, preferably in the space between when he gets home from work and when he retires to bed, but circumstances delayed her this time, and it couldn't be helped that she wound up here in the dead of night.

At least she won't have to worry about the door being locked, she thinks as she climbs the stairs. He had offered her a spare key, once, for those times when she shows up and he's not home to let her in. But Milla had declined, citing the difficulty of keeping the key on her when transitioning between the realms, and stating quite reasonably that if she's ever desperate to get inside, she's fairly certain she could find a way to break in without too much property damage.

Jude had been less than enthused for some reason, but fortunately, Milla has never had cause to try sneaking in the window or busting the lock, and she doesn't now, either.

She knocks softly on the door, keenly aware of how the sound echoes in the empty hall. Jude wouldn't be pleased about his guests disturbing the neighbors at this hour. Yet he doesn't answer, even when Milla tries again a little louder.

Odd, she thinks. It's not like him to ignore company. Something pulls at her chest, a feeling she's finally learned to identify relatively quickly as anxiety, and she reaches for the doorknob, already thinking about how to break the door down in the least disruptive manner possible.

But those thoughts melt away an instant later, when the door opens easily beneath her hand. The hallway is bathed in soft light emanating from somewhere across the room.

Odd, too, that he would leave the entrance unlocked at this hour, but Milla puts it out of her mind and steps inside. As soon as the door is shut behind her, her eyes sweep over the room, noting that everything is in place — the small, immaculately clean kitchen area, table cluttered with books and papers, empty couch, blank TV. The light is coming from a lamp at the other end of the room, and Jude's coat is hanging by the door. The only thing missing is the apartment's sole inhabitant.

"Jude?" Milla says. Her voice sounds overly loud when it breaks the silence, and resounds in her head when silence is her only answer.

It's only as she crosses the room to switch the lamp off — no point wasting energy, after all — that she notices the door to the bedroom is cracked open, and the crack stays lit when the living room goes dark.

The moment she pushes the bedroom door open, whatever feeling of dread or concern that had been nagging at her disappears, and she smiles. He's leaning over his desk, head resting on his crossed arms and face turned away from her, unruly black hair shining in the light of his desk lamp. The papers under his arms are askew; a book lays open beside him, the pages heavily bookmarked, and a pen sits just out of reach of one limp hand. His glasses near the edge of the desk aren't even tucked aside or folded up, as if he expected to put them back on again.

As quietly as she can, Milla walks around to his other side. His face is peaceful, eyes closed and mouth hanging open ever so slightly; he's so lost in his dreams that he hasn't noticed her at all.

She brushes his bangs away from his eyes, tracing her fingers along to his cheek, a feather-light touch accompanied by a soft smile. He always looks so young when he's asleep — it reminds her of how he looked when they met, the kind of innocence that clings to childish features more than mature ones. Of course, he's older now, but that innocence never fully left his face. "Cute” is really the only word for him.

"Jude,” she says again, nudging his shoulder until his eyelids clamp tighter and then blink open blearily against the light. He raises one hand to rub his eyes as he sits up, and finally seems to notice the hand still on his shoulder. His gaze is uncomprehending as it moves up her arm to her face.

"…Milla?”

"Hey,” Milla responds softly, and then adds, more stern, "How many times do I have to tell you, Dr. Mathis? It's not good for you to sleep at your desk.”

Jude smiles, rubbing his hand over his face, and says drowsily, "Sometimes when I stay up too late, I start to imagine you telling me to go to bed.”

"Does it work?” Milla asks, releasing his shoulder to hold her hand out in front of him.

"No.”

Milla frowns, but shakes her hand insistently until Jude takes it in his own.

"I should have known,” she says as she helps him to his feet. "For a doctor, you're surprisingly negligent of your own health. Don't tell me that the only time you sleep properly is when I come down here and drag you to bed.”

Jude shakes his head, still holding her hand even once he's standing and steady. "I sleep… sometimes. But I can't quit on the verge of a breakthrough. This work is important.”

"Your health is important, too.” Milla leans forward until their foreheads touch. "And if you run yourself ragged, your work will suffer for it.”

"I know,” Jude mutters, but he's smiling. Milla smiles too, and tugs him gently toward the bed.

Regardless of how important his work is, he doesn't seem to need any more urging to give it up now and get back to sleep. Leaving his papers and books in disarray, he somewhat-clumsily strips off his socks and tugs off his belt, making sure even in his half-asleep state to place them neatly away rather than throw them on the floor.

Just for him, Milla drapes her gloves over the back of his chair and places her boots nearby. She's never quite understood how he can scatter pens and notes all over his desk when he's working and not give it a second thought, and yet object to her throwing dirty clothes on the floor to pick up tomorrow, but she won't argue with his methods.

By the time she's dressed suitably for sleeping — now hardly seems the time to bother him about borrowing some pajamas — Jude is collapsed on top of the sheets, still in the rest of his clothes, eyes already shut.

He opens them again when Milla switches off the light. Gaze barely focused as he watches her walk back to the bed, he murmurs against the pillows, "I didn't know you were coming tonight. I could've gotten things prepared for you…”

"You don't have to go to any extra trouble for me,” Milla says, urging him off the blankets so she can pull them down and then over them both. "Apparently you need that energy for taking care of yourself properly.”

Maybe he knows the jab was half-facetious, or maybe he's just too tired to care; either way, Jude doesn't reply, and instead curls up against her, tucking his head beneath her chin. Milla wraps her arms around his body.

"If I said…” he starts when he's settled comfortably. "If I said I do only sleep properly when you come drag me to bed, would you do it more often?”

Milla runs the fingers of one hand through his hair. If he wasn't nearly slurring, it might sound like he was flirting with her – but as it is, his voice tired and muffled by her own clothes, the words spark a twinge of pain in her chest.

"As often as I can,” she answers, and pulls him a little closer. She would if she could. But the fact of the matter is that she can't waste mana recreating and maintaining her human realm form for excessive periods of time. Elympios needs that mana to recover, and it would be selfish of her to use so much of it for entirely personal reasons. She can justify only so many visits per year under the guise of "checking on Dr. Mathis's spyrite research” or "seeing how the nature revival is progressing."

Jude's only reply is to twine an arm around her waist and take a deep breath, as if he wants to take in as much of her as he can before sleep claims him. But he's fighting a losing battle; soon enough his breathing has evened out and Milla is pretty sure he's under. She doesn't risk waking him to find out.

Instead, she presses her face into his hair to lightly kiss the top of his head, and enjoys the feeling of warmth enveloping her. It always surprises her how much body heat humans produce. Physical contact hardly exists in the spirit realm at all, much less contact as close and intimate as this, so it's easy to forget just how nice it feels.

It almost makes her tired – almost. But she clings to the feeling, tries to remember what it felt like to be human and exhausted. Spirits can tire, but it's not quite the same thing, in a way she has trouble explaining to her friends. And as far as methods of energy recuperation go, sleeping is actually pretty inefficient, so she has little reason to do it without some other motivation - like the opportunity to spend the night in a bed that smells like Jude, or, better yet, an excuse to cuddle up close to him for so long. What she may once have thought of as a waste of precious time has become surprisingly comfortable.

The fact remains, though, that she doesn't need sleep to function. Even once Jude is soundly asleep, Milla runs her fingers through his hair, and then over his back in steady arcs. When he's awake the motion seems to relax him; there's nothing quite like feeling the tension drain from his muscles under her hands. The years may have mellowed him out further, but even so Milla still thinks sometimes that he's too uptight, too stifled. He's always been a worrier, and she understands now how crushing anxiety can be. It's nice to see him at peace like this.

So she drinks in the serenity and warmth for a while before shifting a little to lay her head down more comfortably, and as she lets her own mind drift into slumber the last thing she consciously feels is the soft weight of Jude's arms around her.

...

...

...

An electronic beeping sound forces Milla's eyes open.

Waking up is often followed by a sense that something is missing; even now she can remember the traces of grogginess that used to accompany mornings, and the clarity that's replaced them still feels out of place sometimes. With no dreams fresh in her memory, the light shining through the curtains is her only evidence that she was asleep for more than a few minutes.

The beeping doesn't stop. Lifting her head, Milla realizes it's coming from Jude's desk, where his GHS is vibrating against the wooden surface as it chimes. Jude himself is still curled up against her, fast asleep.

"Sylph?” Milla whispers, and a moment later the device floats across the room and into her hand. She quietly thanks and dismisses the spirits, and the localized gust fades away.

Having never had one of her own, Milla's not entirely familiar with how to work a GHS, but luckily when she slips the top open the option to dismiss the alarm is right there. The annoying beeping stops and Jude's calendar appears.

He shifts in her arms but doesn't wake up. Milla watches him for a moment. She knows he's not exactly a heavy sleeper; it takes him a while to fully come to his senses in the morning, but he can't simply ignore this kind of noise. She wonders how many hours of sleep he's missed this week.

Finding the GHS's messaging system is a little more difficult, but when she does, it's easy to locate Balan's address. The bigger challenge is getting both her hands free so she can type. With Jude's head still resting on one of her arms, she ends up holding the GHS behind him and placing her chin on the top of his head to see it.

Huh. So maybe there's a literal basis for the human expression "going behind one's back.”

\- balan. this is milla. is jude's presence crucial at helioborg today?

Once the message is sent, there's nothing to do but wait. She presses her face into Jude's hair until the GHS buzzes in her hand.

\- Well, what a pleasant surprise! It feels like I havent seen you in ages. No, were only repeating yesterdays trials on the new test model. Barring an emergency we shouldnt need Judes help for that.

\- good. he's been working himself too hard and needs to stay home and rest for a while.

\- Got it. Tell him he can take as much vacation as he wants. The work will be waiting for him when he gets back lol

Not bothering to reply, Milla clicks the GHS shut again and looks at the nightstand. It's a little farther away than she thought, and the motion of stretching over Jude's body to reach it apparently is enough to finally rouse him. When the GHS thuds against the wood and Milla settles back down, he's blinking himself awake.

"Mph…” He turns his head toward the window, and opens his eyes wider as the light hits them. "Huh… Wait, what time is…?!”

The way he moves, he probably would already be jumping to his feet by now if Milla didn't have him pinned down. "Calm down, Jude.”

"But I'm going to be late to…”

"No, you're not.” Milla relaxes her grip on him a bit and studies his face. Despite his panic, his voice sounds like he's still half asleep, and she's getting worried that the shadows under his eyes are becoming a permanent feature. "The only place you're going is back to sleep. I already spoke to Balan, you have the day off.”

Either he's not yet awake enough to follow, or he's never heard of vacation days. (Neither would surprise Milla at this point.) Jude stares at her blankly, then looks past her at his desk blankly, then twists around to see his GHS on the nightstand.

"Your alarm already went off,” Milla informs him. "You slept through it. Don't try to convince me you're not tired. In this shape, you wouldn't make it halfway down the Torbalan highroad.”

"But…”

"No buts. You're staying in bed. Catch up on your sleep, and then eat a proper meal, and then you can get back to whatever was so important that you had to stay up half of last night.”

Jude's head thuds softly against the pillow as he gives up. His arm tightens around Milla's waist, and he bumps his forehead against her shoulder, eyes already closing again.

"You came all this way to see me, though…”

"Don't concern yourself with that.” Milla wraps an arm around him to run her fingers down the back of his head, smoothing out the mussed strands of hair. "Do what you need to do first. I can wait.”

She thinks she hears Jude grumble something in reply, but he's either too tired or too smart to keep arguing. Soon enough he's asleep again; his arm goes limp and his breath evens out, soft against Milla's shoulder. Her hand stops its motions as she settles back down and watches him.

This is what they chose, after all. They both decided to put their responsibilities first and themselves second. And Milla has yet to regret it, even if she does sometimes wish Jude would spend a little more of his energy on himself.

But she of all people can understand how he feels. And he was always there to make her step back, slow down, remind her to take one step at a time. It's only fair for her to do the same for him now and then, she thinks, curling back around him and closing her eyes.

Despite the soft morning light bathing the room, everything is quiet. Milla tugs the sheets up a little higher and considers going back to sleep, then considers getting up and fixing Jude something to eat for when he wakes up. But the warm blankets and the weight of Jude's arm still resting on her waist stay her, and instead she pulls him closer, letting herself relax, too.

Just for now, their duties can wait a little longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in love is a really weird feeling. Milla likes it.

Of all the emotions Milla has experienced living among humans, love might be the strangest.

She had thought at first that the concept wouldn’t apply to her. She is a spirit, after all - believed herself to be one, even before she truly was. And spirits don’t maintain the same kind of relationships as humans, don’t interact the way the living beings of the human realm do. In her mind, it all amounted to either instinct or silly sentimentality, and the Lord of Spirits is a slave to neither.

Nevertheless, love came to demand her attention anyway. At the outset it had confused her, concealing itself within a web of other emotions she had to sort out and decipher - respect, compassion, admiration, companionship, a whole tangled mess of inclinations she had barely known or recognized in Nia Khera. But eventually it came to settle in categories, feelings she can put words to: Alvin and Leia are her friends. She wants to protect Elize, like a mother protects her child. She regards Rowen as something of a mentor. And Jude - she loves Jude in an entirely different way, a rush of affection and warmth that she can barely wrap her head around, a maddening desire to get closer and closer until no space in the world can separate them.

It's a baffling phenomenon. The shortness of breath, the rapid heartbeat, the fluttery feeling that tickles her chest when Jude smiles - by all accounts, it sounds like a sickness, something to be overcome rather than sought out. It always amazes her that a simple feeling can cause such overpowering physical sensations. She struggles to make sense of it when she's reading about it or sitting alone trying to reason it out, or even now, as she leans down to press her forehead against Jude's while she catches her breath.

He doesn’t seem to have this problem at all. He’s easily embarrassed and blushes like a schoolgirl and stutters when he’s flustered (which is a lot of the time, really, even when she's not pinning him down like this). But he’s confident about his feelings, and moderately confident about how he expresses them. He’s predictable. He wraps his arms around her torso and whispers that he loves her, and his breath is too hot against her skin but it’s sweeter than any food she’s ever tasted, and she’s usually too out of breath to say it back, or at least that’s what she tells herself when her heart won’t stop pounding and her head is buzzing with this infuriatingly wonderful feeling.

So instead she nuzzles his nose and kisses the words back into his own mouth and then dips down to press her lips to his jaw, search out the spot on his neck that drives him crazy and bite down until he whines. His skin is soft and the sharp tang of sweat greets her tongue as she travels down to his collarbones, but for some reason it makes her mouth tingle the same way it does in anticipation of her favorite meals.

No matter how many times she does this, no matter how practiced she feels once she’s memorized every sensitive spot on his body, it still feels new somehow, foreign and enticing and fascinating. None of her books could have prepared her for the exhilaration of actually feeling this way. She wants to study it like she’s never studied anything, learn it until it’s become a part of her very being, the human part that’s not supposed to exist but persists and persists and persists.

When she pulls back to look at him, gently strokes his cheek with the back of her fingers until Jude opens his eyes, she can see every one of her own feelings reflected there. He smiles, expression soft, and Milla leans down to touch her nose to his again and soak in the warmth washing over her.

It's complicated, and confusing, and perhaps not meant for spirits to experience at all, but in those moments, she thinks she finally understands.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couch is uncomfortable, and the bed is big enough for both of them. It's only logical, Jude.

It’s after his third yawn in the last five minutes that Jude finally turns the television off.

“I think it’s about time for bed,” he says, voice muffled by the hand covering his mouth, and turns to look at Milla. “That okay with you?”

Beside him, Milla nods. “Of course.”

They weren’t doing much, anyway. Jude had switched the evening news on some time ago, but after a while they had kind of tuned it out in favor of cuddling up on the couch and talking - at least, until Jude practically started nodding off between sentences.

Now he stands up, tilting his head sharply to the side and rubbing his neck. Milla watches in silence. She doesn’t get off the couch herself until she has to get out of the way of the blanket Jude spreads across it, and even then she only makes it to the doorway to the bedroom before she stops. 

Jude fluffs up his pillow at one end of the couch and straightens up. It isn’t until he turns around, rubbing his back, that he notices Milla watching him.

“Uh… need something?”

Milla studies him for a moment longer. “Yes, actually. Come sleep in the bed.”

It’s a simple enough statement, but Jude stares like she’s speaking Long Dau. After several seconds, he manages to say, “W-Wait, you mean like, switch places…?”

“If you want.” Milla crosses her arms and shrugs. “But I figured we could just share the bed. I’m sure it’s big enough for two people.”

“Ah, um…” For some reason, Jude seems to resist agreeing, rubbing one arm in a repeated motion Milla has learned to identify as a nervous habit. “That’s… probably true, but… Really, Milla, I’m fine out here, the couch isn’t that bad…” Even as he says it, he trails off like he already knows Milla will argue.

Milla looks at the couch behind him. It’s not a bad piece of furniture, as far as places to sit go. He bought it used because that was cheaper, and it’s still in relatively good condition. But as a bed, Milla hardly thinks it deserves much praise. It’s just short enough that in order to stretch out Jude has to put his feet or head over the armrests, and it’s too hard and too narrow to be very comfortable.

Sure enough, Milla doesn’t budge. “I think your neck would beg to differ,” she says, and continues more softly, “Jude, this isn’t good for you. You already sacrifice too much sleep in favor of working. You need to rest properly, somewhere that won’t put more strain on your body. Not at your desk, and not on that couch.”

“I know, but…” Jude looks back at the couch almost wistfully. “It wouldn’t be right to make you sleep out here instead…”

Milla’s lips twitch faintly. “You know I don’t actually need to sleep. And even if I did, sleeping on this couch is a sacrifice I would be more than willing to make for your comfort and health. In any case, if the idea bothers you so much, I still don’t see why we can’t share the bed.“

It’s a long, long moment before Jude finally averts his eyes from the couch, and still they only make it to Milla’s feet and not her face. He straightens up, swallows, and picks the pillow up off the couch.

“Okay,” he says, and finally looks up. “I-If you really want to, we can share the bed.”

Milla smiles and leads the way into the bedroom. A few moments later the living room lights go out and Jude follows, almost meekly, as if he’s not sure he has any right to be in his own room. He tosses the pillow on top of the bed, grabs his night clothes, and quickly disappears into the bathroom, muttering something about changing.

By the time he comes back, Milla has changed clothes herself and crawled under the covers on the far side of the bed. She almost doesn’t hear Jude come in; he stands in the doorway for a long minute, one hand still on the bathroom light switch, looking almost daunted.

“Are you coming?” Milla asks. 

Jude steels himself like he does before a battle or a nerve-wracking presentation, forcing his chin up as he discards his clothes and approaches the bed. It strikes Milla as more than a little ridiculous in the cozy half-light of his familiar apartment.

The other side of the bed dips under Jude’s weight, and he slides under the covers without looking at Milla at all. Eventually he settles on his back and the blankets stop their rustling. 

The room goes still. Jude stares at the ceiling for several moments before his eyes flick to Milla. She gazes back neutrally; after only a second Jude looks away.

Milla frowns. The point of dragging him back to this bed was to help him relax, but he’s as stiff as a board. Sometimes she thinks he goes out of his way to avoid loosening up.

“Are you comfortable?” she asks, shifting a little bit closer.

Jude’s eyes are fixed squarely across the room. “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s nothing fine about his attempt at a smile.

“You’re warm enough? I noticed you keep the thermostat higher when I’m not around. If you can’t sleep with it this low–”

“N-No, it’s okay,” Jude says. “I’m not cold…”

Milla tilts her head against her pillow. It’s difficult to tell in the dark, but he might be… blushing? Perhaps she should ask if he’s too hot instead.

But Jude doesn’t seem interested in talking, so Milla decides to take him at his word. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in interacting with her at all. For some reason she finds that slightly disappointing, but upon further thought, it makes sense. He was an only child, and lives here alone. Perhaps he’s simply used to sleeping in solitude.

In that case, she doesn’t want to trouble him any further. Making sure not to tug on the blankets too hard, she turns over and settles down facing the wall. In a few moments she hears Jude shift behind her.

It can’t be very big, but there’s definitely a gap between them, where the blankets dip but not pool. Milla wonders why they didn’t do this sooner. There’s always been enough room for both of them here, yet from the first time Milla visited his apartment, Jude had insisted on giving her the bed to herself.

Of course, Milla hadn’t particularly cared where she slept or didn’t sleep. But Jude said it was rude to make a guest stay somewhere uncomfortable, and moved to the couch without further ado. There was little reason for Milla to argue. Jude preferred that arrangement, and to be honest, the bed is quite nice. The pillows have a certain faint scent to them – perhaps the fresh smell of the fabric softener on the sheets, combined with Jude’s hair products and a tinge of his natural body odor – and something about that makes it very easy for her to relax.

But after several visits, she started to notice the quirks Jude himself doesn’t know he has. The way he looks almost as tired when she leaves as when she arrives, even though taking time off work should mean he’s resting more. How he stretches and pops his joints as if his body feels stiff, rarely at first and increasingly the longer she stays.

If it would be rude to force a guest into sleeping on that couch, Milla can’t imagine it’s that much more polite to force her host to sleep there. It’s sweet that he cares so much about everybody else, but this isn’t the first time Milla has had cause to worry that Jude isn't prioritizing himself enough.

It’s difficult not to look over her shoulder and see how he’s doing, but Milla manages to lull herself into a relaxed state anyway, tuning out the soft shaking of the bed and scraping of fabric as Jude moves around behind her. Eventually her mind drifts into that thoughtless state that almost reminds her of sleeping, a spirit’s best approximation at a function spirits don’t quite need.

When she “wakes,” the room is silent. There are no clocks within sight, but she gets the impression that quite some time has passed, so she quietly and carefully turns over, brushing her hair away from her face.

Apparently Jude did manage to fall asleep, despite his earlier restlessness. He’s even facing Milla now, blankets pulled up to his neck and bangs falling into his eyes. One hand rests half-curled near his pillow, twitching slightly, and without really thinking Milla reaches out to calm it.

It’s only after she’s draped her fingers over his that she realizes her touch might simply wake him up. But on the contrary, his hand stops fidgeting and he seems to relax, burying his forehead a little deeper into his pillow.

His skin feels cold against hers; Milla hopes he wasn’t bluffing about the thermostat. Honestly, it’s his house - he shouldn’t have to sacrifice anything for her sake, she thinks, rubbing her fingers softly against his.

Jude’s hand twitches once more, but he remains sound asleep. Milla covers it with her own and shifts a little closer, removing the excess blankets between them. Maybe she can warm him up, just a little. Spirits don’t give off as much body heat as humans do, but the proximity still might help.

Laying her head back down, Milla watches Jude for a few more minutes. It pleases her to see his neck straight and his expression peaceful, and without meaning to she smiles before she closes her eyes. There are still several hours before dawn, so there’s little else for Milla to do but sleep. And tonight, she can rest easy knowing that Jude is resting easy, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with all other aspects of his life, Milla manages to throw a wrench into Jude's morning routine. Jude doesn't really mind.

Jude has never been much of a morning person. He’s methodical about getting ready, and disciplined enough to drag himself out of bed even when he feels exhausted - which is increasingly often, given his propensity these days for staying up too late working on his research. Nevertheless, it usually takes him a while to force himself awake after his alarm goes off.

Today, too, the sharp sound of it pulls him out of sleep but not quite into alertness - especially when it shuts off by itself a moment later, removing the immediate need for him to force his eyes open. Instead, something shifts beside him, and the feeling of warm fingers brushing against his cheek gently tugs him into the waking world.

_Milla_. Milla is here. She arrived yesterday evening, giving them just enough time to catch up before Jude had to go to bed. Of course Milla followed, despite her lack of any real need to sleep - and perhaps that lack is why she seems to be wide awake now, running her hand along the side of his head.

Jude opens his eyes and smiles as the dim, fuzzy shape of her comes into focus in front of him, backlit by the soft light shining through the curtains. Before he can even think of anything to say, Milla leans in to kiss him, gently at first and then a little harder.

That’s a perfectly acceptable “good morning” as far as Jude is concerned, so he doesn’t protest - not when she shifts closer, sliding her arm around his neck, and not when she props herself up to lean over him.

Lost in a haze, Jude brings one arm up to wrap it around her body, pulling her closer. In response Milla pushes him back a little farther, tilts his chin up more, takes his lower lip between her teeth and curls her fingers into his shoulder.

Maybe he’s too tired to put the pieces together, or maybe he was just enjoying the sensations a little too much to think, but he doesn’t really get the message until Milla pulls back, shoving the sheets away so she can swing herself up and straddle his hips. If he wasn’t awake before, he is now.

“M-Milla…?!” His voice is still a little hoarse, and he coughs to clear his throat, quietly cursing himself for his stutter and the way his face is heating up so rapidly. They’ve done far worse than this before. Why is he still such a baby about it? Milla has seen him naked and yet he still gets all flustered about her sitting on his lap?

Although, maybe he was right to be concerned, because Milla apparently has more than sitting on his lap in mind. She’s already tugging at his shirt and pulling him forward into another kiss, heedless of the fact that he can’t help her with both of those things at the same time.

Jude mumbles a halfhearted complaint against her mouth, temporarily forgetting that he should be resisting and getting up to shower. Milla has his shirt pushed up to his armpits while she runs her hands over his chest, and somehow his own hands come to rest on her hips.

When she finally backs off again, Jude has to take several breaths before he can gather himself enough to say, “H-Hold on, Milla, it’s seven in the morning…!”

She tugs at his shirt again, and he meekly raises his arms to let her pull it over his head and throw it on the floor. It’s a clumsy process that leaves his hair mussed and half in his eyes, but Milla is already brushing it away from his forehead, leaving space to trail kisses across his face to his ear. Jude closes one eye as her own hair brushes his cheek.

“Exactly,” she says before her teeth graze his earlobe.

Jude swallows. “Wh-What?”

“I read an article lately,” Milla goes on, breath hot against his ear, “that said that people who have sex in the mornings report feeling happier throughout the entire rest of the day.”

Jude lets one hand drift up her side, ghosting over her skin, and feels something shoot up his own spine when she shivers. “Where do you even find these things?” Her beloved  _Men and Women Beneath the Sheets_  is one thing, but now she’s dipping into Elympion tabloids too?

“Here and there,” is all Milla says, drawing back again to kiss his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. “I thought it was interesting.”

She latches on to the skin between his shoulder and neck, and as soon as the kiss becomes less lips and more teeth Jude gives up.

“More like you thought it was a good excuse,” he mutters, without any trace of bitterness. Milla scrapes her teeth along his neck as if looking for a new place to bite down, but every time he thinks she’s about to do it, she pulls back again. One of her hands runs steadily from his shoulder blade to the waistband of his pants and back up.

The anticipation alone could kill him. Milla surely knows that, and still, she leans back to say, “I don’t need an excuse,” before diving in to suck on the other side of his neck. Jude’s only reply is an embarrassingly high-pitched whine.

Of their own accord, his hands rise to slide across Milla’s back, one feeling the smooth lines of her shoulder blades and the other tangling in her hair. She shifts a little closer, a painful reminder of her legs straddling his body; Jude turns his head to press his lips to Milla’s temple and desperately tries to distract himself.

“You know I… still have to go to work today, right?…” Certainly he does his best to take time off when Milla is visiting, so as not to waste her time or the mana it requires to maintain her presence here, but occasionally something comes up and he has to spend the day at Helioborg anyway. He did mention that last night, didn’t he…?

Yes, he’s pretty sure he did. Otherwise they would have been doing this when they got in bed, not when they’re supposed to be getting out of it. But apparently Milla wasn’t quite as okay with waiting as she said she was.

“We have time,” is all Milla says. Her breath is warm against his shoulder. “I can have the Four escort you to Helioborg if you’re worried you’ll be late.”

“Ngh…”

Jude isn’t sure what’s worse: the image of Balan’s knowing smile when he shows up late the morning after his girlfriend gets in town, or the idea of being carried down the highroad like a child being taken to school. Either way, there are going to be more people making assumptions about his morning than he would like - and worse, all their assumptions will be correct.

But then again, Milla is right: this probably won’t take long, if her hands hooking the waistband of his pajama pants means anything.

He hisses at the feeling of her knuckles brushing against his bare skin, and still leans in to her when she raises her head again to kiss him.

“Would you like to do an experiment, Dr. Mathis?”

Jude huffs. “As long as you don't keep calling me that,” he says, but he’s still smiling.

After all, he is a researcher. For the sake of science, then...


End file.
